


In the 90's

by fundip



Category: BoJack Horseman
Genre: Angst and Feels, Comedy, Family, Past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fundip/pseuds/fundip
Summary: "BoJack used to be so happy when he first started on Horsin' Around. What happened?"





	In the 90's

**Author's Note:**

> Slow start.

The thing about horses is that there are several “positive” stereotypes that are held against them. And the thing about positive stereotypes is that they disguise themselves as something good when they are extremely harmful. For example: a “positive” stereotype is that all horses are good runners just because some of the best athletes in the world are horses. This puts high expectations on the horses who are not so good at running. Another example of a “positive” stereotype on a horse is that they are very fit, because society expects them to eat a large quantity of fruits and vegetables. The list of these “positive” stereotypes go on and on. Society has unrealistic expectations on all horses, and this puts a lot of pressure upon them. Either the horse must conform to the stereotype and continue the spread of misinformation – that all horses fit within this bubble of perfection that is nearly impossible to obtain. Or a horse can defy the stereotype, but that is incredibly difficult within a society that builds an incredibly tight mold for the horse to fit within. 

BoJack doesn’t fit within the typical archetype. He isn’t a good runner. His mile time is 18 minutes. He isn’t fit either; mostly because he doesn’t like eating healthy at all. He thinks of himself as a unique character. Someone who breaks through the bounds of the status quo and defines himself as he likes. The one thing that he does like to do that fits within the “positive” stereotype for horses is eat apples. Well, not apples, but he likes to eat apple fritters. It’s not about meeting what society expects from him. It’s more about connecting to his people and their culture. 

Or maybe it’s about the fact that he has no self-respect and tries to fill the gaping hole of emptiness within him with apple fritters. 

“Hey, BoJack?” 

Diane places a hand on the table, a few inches from the box of donuts she had brought with her earlier that morning. Across the desk, her current employer, Hollywood actor BoJack Horseman, sat staring sadly within the box. It’s empty. She decided that since she had only known BoJack for a few weeks at this point and hadn’t really been able to get that much information out of him from the book she was currently being paid to write about him, she would do a bit of cursory research so that she could be able to get him to talk. She had been up until 2AM this morning from the night before, frantically trying to figure all she could about BoJack’s interests and possible things or strategies she could use for conversation lubricant. The hard part was that BoJack really loves to talk, but he doesn’t really talk about anything important. For example, at their meeting a few days ago, he spent about two and a half hours straight just talking about how he was robbed of a deserved Kids’ Choice Award in 1991 when he was pinned up for against Will Smith for the “Favorite TV Actor” award. Although this is an interesting anecdote, it is something that doesn’t really fit within the book that Diane is trying to write, so she basically lost an entire day’s worth of work to irrelevant ramblings. 

When she did her research the night before, she found a Reddit thread talking about the Horsin’ Around cast and brief, cute depictions of what they like; it was on some 90’s Hollywood nostalgia subreddit. Of course, her attention was immediately drawn to BoJack’s section, which stated that he loved apple fritters. She thought that she hit the jackpot and that if she brought a box of fresh apple fritters with her to the interview for today, that BoJack would be so thrown off and excited that he would start talking about personal aspects of his life rather than surface level stuff that ultimately has no place in the book. It was a bit of a stretch, but she figured this was the only shot that she had. 

What she didn’t really anticipate was that BoJack would go buck wild for the fritters, eating the dozen in less than half an hour – happily munching away as if this was the greatest treat imaginable. At first, she was very excited. He was in a good mood. But then he finished the apple fritters. He yelled at Diane for tempting him. He apologized for shouting. He asked if he was fat. He didn’t let her answer. He kept calling himself fat. Finally, he just began looking into the box. He didn’t look angry anymore, or even sad. He more so looked contemplative, like he was searching for something. Maybe he thought it was possible that he had missed one of the fritters and was looking through the box to see if he could find it. 

Diane sighs and pats where she had extended her hand before retracting it back to her side. No reaction from BoJack. He’s still looking for the ghost fritter. 

She studies him for a minute before speaking again. “Listen, I know you wanted to write this book yourself and I know that I don’t really know you that well.” BoJack doesn’t move. “I know that it’s hard that I ask questions about your parents or what you’ve been doing for the past two decades, how you feel about the world, but I want to get your story out there. I’ve spent a lot of time watching your show BoJack and I know lots of other people who have, too. I know you’ve done interviews for Horsin’ Around before, so maybe we can start by talking about that and maybe ease ourselves into the more serious stuff once we know each other a little more?”

BoJack looks up at her. “Are you going to write in the book that I ate a dozen apple fritters in one setting?”

Diane smiles awkwardly. “I can leave that out if you give me something else to write about. All I have now is celebrity beef and I don’t think drama is all there is to you.”

“No. A lot of people actually like me.”

“Tell me about it.”

BoJack sits back in his chair, disregarding the donut box. “The first thing you should know about Horsin’ Around is that we all got along really well and were really great friends.”

_Twenty-seven years prior._

BoJack held his breath as he walked to the door leading to the stage. On the other side there were dozens of people who were waiting for him. They were waiting to see the very first glance of some new sitcom. Sure, he had already done the readings in front of a controlled audience. And sure, the reception was good from the network executives, but there is a very big difference between a group of people in suits trying to make a quick buck and the people they are trying to make a quick buck off of. Sure, it mattered what they thought, they were the ones that kept the show running, but they weren’t the ones filling the audience on the other side of the door and they certainly weren’t the ones filling in couches at home.

His hand fell onto the face of the door, to push out onto the stage he had been on countless times before. Yet, this is the first time he ever felt like this. The first time he ever felt so nervous to meet what’s on the other side. Before he could push to pass the threshold, he felt a hand on his back.

“Knock ‘em dead BJ.”

He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who it was. His best friend Herb Kazzaz. The one who made this all possible for him. The one who was making his dreams come true. Or maybe he’s the one who was going to throw away BoJack’s life. Maybe the executives were wrong, and the script sucked. Maybe BoJack was a terrible actor and wasn’t ready to be on stage. Maybe he wasn’t ready for anything this big. 

He took in a deep breath and broke into a smile. Herb was hilarious; if he wrote the script, BoJack’s character would be nothing short of comedy gold. There’s no way that Herb would ever do anything to hurt him. In fact, he bought him his new favorite type of pastry an hour before he had to be on set just to ease his nerves – a fruity donut type thing. He didn’t get the name of it. 

“Will do, Herb.” He walks out the door.


End file.
